


Try This

by SageGreen



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Discovery, Eating, Fluff, Food, Light-Hearted, M/M, Vignette, just a bunch of fun scenes, some food is great, some food is gross, they've always been friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 19:24:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20569604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SageGreen/pseuds/SageGreen
Summary: Crowley & Aziraphale were brought together by the act of eating-- Eve & the apple, where we begin our story-- and it's a recurring theme in their relationship.A collection of short vignettes where they discover some of the high (and low points) of humanity's never-ending quest to find & create delicious things.





	Try This

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've been thinking about this idea of these two lovely creatures traveling through time while humans discover strange foods that turn out to be excellent, and what their reactions might be, for a while. I'm pleased to finally share it with you!
> 
> I've made some attempts at research to get my times/locations correct, but I've used a fair bit of artistic licence as well. Apologies if I've made any glaring errors (let me know if I have!)
> 
> As always, unbeta'd-- let's do this.

_4004 BC - The Wall_

"Did you try it?"

"Try what?"

"The apple."

"The _forbidden fruit?!"_

Crawley gave a little shrug, as if he didn't understand why the angel sounded so indignant. "I've seen you eat some of the fruit the humans were eating."

"Berries!" Aziraphale sputtered in his defense, "Figs! Seeds! And, well, yes, tree fruits... oranges and pomegranates and...."

"....and apples?" the demon said through a smirk. Aziraphale somehow managed to glare at him from the corner of his eye.

"_Not_ apples from The Tree Of Knowledge," the angel huffed. Crawley chuckled softly.

"Alright," the demon acquiesced. They stood in silence for a moment watching Adam & Eve walk into the horizon. "What'd you think?" Crawley's voice was pitched slightly too high, trying just a touch too hard to make the question seem casual. Aziraphale flicked his eyes to Crowley, who was giving him an encouraging look, and that was all it took for the angel to forget his pique.

"They're very good," he admitted. "One of my favorites, actually. After pears."

Crowley made a little noise of polite interest. "I've never tried one of those." He raised his eyebrows at the angel in an unspoken request. The angel pursed his lips and glanced up at the sky.

"Well... the rain's just about done, it seems." He swept his protective wing away from Crowley and shook it off. "Care to join me? We could lunch together."

"I think it's pronounced _launch_, angel," Crowley corrected.

"Ah. Of course. Still figuring out the language thing."

They spread their wings and lifted off the wall, gliding towards Aziraphale's preferred fruit grove.

_ 3100 BC - Egypt _

"This has got to be one of your tricks. On me or on them, I'm not sure, but--"

"I _swear_ it, angel. Watch."

The two beings, stood in the shade of a cliff's on the edge of what would one day be Cairo, watching people in the slave's huts begin their days. In particular they were interested in the young women heading to the cattle pens with large clay pots in their arms.

"Where did they even get the idea to do this?" Azirphale cast an accusing glance at Crawley.

"I mean, I have to assume they saw the calves doing it, and thought, 'Hey! Maybe there's something delicious in there!'" The demon replied animatedly.

Aziraphale's grimace deepened and he made a noise of dismay as one of the girls pulled a rough wooden stool up beside a baying heifer and placed the pot beneath it's udders. With practiced hands she reached under the animal, grabbed a teat in each hand, and began milking the cow.

In the shadows, an angel and a demon watched her in fascinated and rather disgusted silence, both heads cocked at an angle.

"What.... does it taste like?" Aziaphale finally asked, not turning to meet Crawley's surprised look. 

"You think I know?" 

The two met eyes and winced. They both knew what was about to happen. Aziraphale sighed as Crawley snapped, encouraging a thought into the slave girl's head, and she was unable to resist the urge to go check on something in the house. With another snap, the jug was at their feet.

They both stared at it.

Crawley looked up at Aziraphale, who still had his lips pursed tight. When the angel finally looked up, he quickly fluttered a hand at the demon in an _after you_ gesture. Crawley paused only a moment before straightening up in determination, picking up the jug, and raising the rim to his lips.

"You know," Aziraphale said as the demon took his first tentative sips, "This is supposed to be reserved only for kings and temple priests, so I suppose it should be very go--"

"_NNnnnnggg_ it's _warm_," Crawley managed to moan out over a mouth still full of milk. He put the back of his left hand against his lips and looked at Aziraphale pleadingly, jug still dangling from the other hand. The angel peered back with wide eyes.

"...yes.... well... I supposed that makes sense.... it just came from a mammal..."

Crawley thrust the jug at Aziraphale and turned away, hand still to his lips, trying to decide if he was going to spit out the creamy, warm liquid or power through and swallow. Aziraphale peeked into the jug, glanced at Crawley, shrugged, and lifted the jug to his own lips. Crawley turned around to watch him take his first sip.

Maybe it was because he was forewarned about the warmth. Maybe it's because he tended to favor sweet, rich things anyway. Maybe he was just already sliding into the sin of gluttony and any new food appealed to him. Whatever the reason, Aziraphale didn't object to the milk.

He swallowed, licked his lips, and looked at Crawley with something that looked almost like guilt. "I like it," he confessed, voice barely above a murmur. Crawley swallowed the milk he was still holding in his mouth and sneered. 

"You would," he mumbled, but there was no malice in the words. He gestured at the jug. "Well take what you want now, unless you want that girl to get a whipping later for not providing an offering to the 'gods'."

Aziraphale took one more deep drink, luxuriating in the new taste, and sent the jug back beneath the cow with a thought. He was confident no one would notice it was a little lighter now than it was a moment ago.

_ 1526 BC - Valencia, Spain _

_ _

"Oh, clever..."

Aziaphale hummed in agreement from the grove where the two stood, again watching the humans securing food, this time from a tiny insect instead of a giant animal.

The men trying to get to the honey hidden in a tree stump had built a campfire upwind of the tree in question, covered it in moss, and were now fanning the smoke towards the bees. In short order the insects' thronging whine had muted to a dull buzz. The humans wasted no time in rushing in and carving out a nice wedge of honeycomb, stuffing it in a sack, and going back for more. Aziraphale turned to Crawley, a question on his lips--

\--and found that he was standing alone in the grass. 

He didn't have to wait long to figure out what had happened to his friend. Shrieks erupted from the humans the likes of which would have embarrassed a little girl, as a huge black snake reared up our of the grass beside them. The angel hadn't know that humans could run that fast.

He frowned as Crawley shifted back to his human form, plucking a hand-sized piece of honeycomb from the still sedated hive. He looked exceedingly pleased with himself as he sauntered back over to Aziaphale. In response, he angel crossed his arms over his chest and huffed.

"What?" The demon asked in false bafflement. 

"Was that necessary?" The angel chastised. Crawley broke the waxy honeycomb in two, licking the side of his hand where some freed honey flowed down, and offered half to the angel, who did not hesitate to take it even as he continued to look disapproving.

"You tell me," the demon said, still smiling. Aziraphale took a delicate bite of the sweet treat and in spite of himself, closed his eyes and sighed in pleasure. "That's what I thought," Crawley murmured. The two turned to walk back to the town, eating as they picked their way out of the tree grove.

"Clever humans. Figuring out how to get honey without dealing with bees."

Aziraphale hummed in agreement again.

_ 200 AD - Guangdong Province, China _

_ _

"Crowley -- dont!"

The hissed warning had come too late. Crowley already had a mouthful of the soup in his mouth. He turned slowly to meet the horrified eyes of the angel seated beside him at the royal banquet. Aziraphale swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. 

"It's...." his eyed flicked to the bowls on the table and back to the demon, who was growing increasingly concerned. _Was it poisoned?? _"...snake."

Crowley paused. For just a moment. Then he carefully chewed the meat in his mouth and swallowed it. Aziraphale looked even more horrified.

"I'm delicious," Crowley finally said flatly.

They stared at one another for a moment before Aziraphale's attention drifted to his own soup. Carefully, he picked up his spoon, fished out a small piece of pale meat, and after the briefest hesitation, brought the spoon to his lips, looking at Crowley as he did. 

The angel chewed, swallowed, and then nodded regretfully. It _was _delicious. He could feel his cheeks flush.

He didn't know why it disturbed him so much.

_ 636 AD - England _

_ _

In a small stone cottage just outside the main town, hidden from nosy neighbors that might otherwise intrude into Crowley's less-than-savory business, the demon placed a steaming bowl of thick stew on a rough wood table. It was set in front of a trepidatious angel, who eyed up the steaming bowl with a mix of distrust and desire.

"What? You think I'd poison you? Look--" Crowley dipped a slender finger into the broth as if the heat didn't bother him at all _(it didn't)_ and sucked it off his finger quickly in an attempt to prove himself.

The fact that he then clasped his hands quickly behind his back and then went back to shifting his weight between his feet as if he were on consecrated ground, yellow eyes trained unblinkingly on the angel, effectively undid any attempts to persuade Aziraphale that _everything was fine and this was all great, nothing wrong at all._

The angel frowned up at the fretting demon.

"My dear, really. What is wrong with this food?" He asked for the seventeenth time since entering the cottage. He'd come to discuss some business-- their still very new _Arrangement_\-- and had found Crowley cooking over the fireplace. The demon had immediately lept to inviting Aziraphale to stay for dinner, far too eager, and good manners had made the angel stay while the demon finished cooking. He hadn't _seen_ anything untoward go into the pot, nor had he spied anything particularly concerning anywhere in the demon's sparsely furnished home, but...

...Well. One could never know, with a demon. And Crowley was acting so _weird_. So Aziraphale continued to stare at Crowley while he squirmed under his gaze. 

The demon huffed again. "Look. I promise you, _I swear it on punishment of Falling, _**again**, that there is nothing in that meal that will harm you. I just... want you to like it" He finished his plea wide-eyed and if not innocent, then at least trying to look that way.

Aziraphale's resolve wavered. Crowley saw it.

"Please, angel... I've worked so hard on this, I've been working so hard on my meal preparation, and you love food so much-- don't deny it! I've seen it enough to know!-- and you've never had this before, I promise you. You'll enjoy it. Please. Just... try it."

Crowley sounded sincere, and Aziraphale felt guilty. He picked up the spoon and avoided looking at Crowley, who was practically vibrating with excitement, as he dipped the spoon onto the dish and scooped up some meat and what appeared to be a bit of turnip. He blew on the stew to cool it a bit, and with one final hesitant look to the chef, took it all into his mouth. 

When he didn't immediately discorporate, Aziraphale chewed, and found that he had to admit that it was a pretty good. Not great, but good. He swallowed, and still didn't feel any adverse effects. He shifted his gaze back to Crowley, who-- damnit, he had a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Well?"

"It's very good. Hearty. Nicely seasoned."

"Mmhmm..."

Aziraphale took another bite while Crowley watched, a little more at ease now. "Rabbit?" He guessed, raising a hand to his mouth to conceal the food he was still chewing.

"Venison," the demon replied, a full wicked smile on his face now. Aziraphale hummed, recognizing the taste. Then recognizing something else. He swallowed.

"Deer," he said darkly, looking down at the bowl and setting the spoon on the table.

"Yes. The king's dear. Poached. Stolen. You're committing a crime against the king and therefore a crime against God just by eating it."

This of course, was not true, and just something the king had put in place to make himself feel special and make his people suffer just a little bit more. God Herself did not care who consumed Her creatures, so long as they did so humanely and gratefully. Those facts didn't stop Aziraphale from throwing the spoon at Crowley as he wailed the demon's name in outrage, and as the demon, in turn, cackled.

_ 1113 AD -- France _

_ _

"Aren't these vermin?"

"What? No!"

"Pests, then."

"Well... yes, technically." Aziraphale frowned but continued to carefully place the baked snails, cooked over a fireplace like the one Crowley had used to make stew in his own home half a century ago, onto a dish with a raised lip on it. "But don't let that dissuade you from giving them a chance!"

The angel draped a cloth over his hand and used it to pick up a hot bowl on the hearth, full of melted better and herbs. He poured it over the snails as Crowley looked on from a chair next to the fire, a doubtful frown on his face.

Still crouched, Aziraphale turned to Crowley and held out the bowl of steaming snails drowning in butter sauce. The demon slowly moved his eyes back and forth between the dish and the angel before exhaling a long-suffering sigh and extending a hand to pluck a shell from the dish. Using the fork the angel had given him, he speared the flesh, and, hesitating again for good measure, put the snail meat between his teeth, and chewed. 

Aziraphale was watching him with raised eyebrows as the demon chewed with a sour look on his face, and eventually swallowed the snail.

"'S'rubbery," the demon whined. Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

"Yes. It is, but how does it _taste?"_

"Fine. Decadent. Good job, you made vermin palatable, it's not for me." He thrust the fork back at Aziraphale, surrendering it, still grimacing. The angel sighed and took the fork, resting the dish on his knees and picking up a shell.

"You're a snob," he muttered.

_ 1847 - The Netherlands _

_ _

Aziraphale let out a positively pornographic moan, right there in the main square. Crowley was stunned into silence, holding an open box in his hand, dark glasses doing nothing to hide the shock on his face.

"They _finally _got it right," the angel moaned, and reached in for another piece of the chocolate bar Crowley had bought him as a gift, and which he had been so excited to share that he had insisted the angel try right away. 

In retrospect, that had been a mistake.

"Er. Yeah. Say," Crowley crammed the lid back onto the sweets box, preventing Aziraphale from snatching another piece and repeating any of those noises in public, "How's the bookshop doing? I haven't been in ages, let's go back to your hotel and you can tell me all about it. Right now."

Crowley grabbed the other man's elbow and roughly steered him away from the platform and towards the exit of the station. Aziraphale was too blissed-out to object.

_ _

_ 1924 AD - New York City _

_ _

"Crowley?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you remember how we ever lived before champagne was invented?"

"No."

They clinked glasses.

_ 2007 AD - London, England _

_ _

"I do not understand how you've never had McDonald's before." Crowley spoke around a mouth full of processed flour, wilted lettuce, what was possibly beef, and a questionable sauce.

Aziraphale picked a thin, grease-soaked French fry out of the paper bag Crowley had plunked onto the table in the back room of his bookshop and held it before his thumb and forefinger like a magic wand. It drooped pathetically, and Aziraphale grimaced.

"Trrrry it," the demon cajoled. He was thoroughly enjoying this.

Obediently, Azirphale wrangled the fry into his mouth and chewed, slowly, considering the taste. When he was finished, he said, "Ugh, awful." The demon began laughing but was cut short with the angel's caveat; "Did you get this from the Leicester Square location? They're always so soggy. The one on Oxford Street is _far_ superior." He popped another fry in his mouth, eyes gleaming.

"What?!" Crowley screeched. He wasn't sure if he was scandalized or thrilled. Both? Aziraphale laughed and started unwrapping one of the the numerous-- really, there were too many, had he _really_ bought one of everything on the menu for the angel to "try?"-- wrapped packages in the bag.

Crowley slowly shook his head and grinned at the blond man. "You, not only partaking in junk food, but a connoisseur? _And surely it is a sign, and the apocalypse is nigh upon us,_" the demon teased. At this Aziraphale's eyes went wide and he cast a fearful glance at the ceiling.

"Sush! You'll curse us all with talk like that. Now eat your McNuggets before they congeal."

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks in advance for any feedback! <3
> 
> (Wanna drop me a note on Tumblr instead? @SageGreenish)


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